


Free Drinks and Bad Advice

by PSIDontKnow



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Based on an entire album more like, Mentions of spousal abuse, More characters to be added, Multi, Songfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-27 10:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PSIDontKnow/pseuds/PSIDontKnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They met by accident, and stay friends by purpose</p><p>Isn't it strange how a life can be summed up simply by an album, but there's so much more than that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Plath on the Dash

               She was no stranger to life on the road, and while she greatly enjoyed the bright lights of the city, she found solace in the dark of the road, in the silence of the road only broken by the rumbling of her truck and her music that bounced off trees lining the old back roads on nights when she could open her windows. She had told the tour bus to go ahead and head to Jackson ahead of her, it would take it longer to move through the mid December snow that had popped up, leaving her more time to visit a friend in New Orleans (or Nawlins as it often came out in her friend’s accent.) The snow had picked up thickly, unseasonable for the normally warm Louisiana/Mississippi area, but unexpected things are the spice of her life. Pale eyes coloured pink by contacts flickered down to the radio as the song playing ended and the announcement of closed roads came on. She groaned as she recognized most of the streets she needed to take to get to her next show on that list.

                “Fuck it, I’m already runnin’ late.” She muttered before pulling over, slipping a blue tooth piece over her ear before dialing someone and pulling back onto the road, listening to the dial tone before the lightly accented voice answered.

                “Hello, Calliope Umbra speaking.”

                “Yo, Callie babe, you on that earpiece do-hicky?”

                “Roxy! Where are you? You were supposed to be here for publicity thirty minutes ago, Meenah is flipping her lid.” A smile split the blond’s face at the mention of her crazy head of publicity.

                “I think she’d flip her lid even worse if I showed up in my presh Mutini. Or, you know, showed up dead on the news, fish tailed off the road in the slush I’m driving in.” You hear Calliope mutter something under her breath, probably something that sounds childish, but is as good as a curse to her.

                “You’re correct, she hates your truck. Where are you now?”

                “On fifty five, I passed the border about a half hour ago. In this shit, probs got another two hours.”

                “You think we could postpone the show until you get here?”

                “If I gun it, and I don’t trust these roads Callie, they be slippery bitches. Slippery tricky bitches, warse- shit, worse- than my sister.”

                “She is of the slippery sort, but I thought that title would go to either of your brothers first.” She shifts the gear on the truck, going around a bend before answering.

                “I still don’t get how Dirk hasn’t killed _your_ brother.”

                “Because it would look terrible if the famed singer’s brother killed her head of security.”

                “You’re right, but how haven’t you killed him yet?”

                “Because I’m the one Papa raised right.” Roxy laughed at the smugness lacing her friend and agent’s voice.

                “Oh, girl, I’m corrupting you, you’re getting a mean bone in your body. I’m gonna let you go again so I can drive, either refund the tickets or post pone until tomorrow, ‘kay?”

                “I’ll see what I can do, good bye Roxy.” She tossed the ear piece in the passenger’s seat once the tone cut in, her hand moving to rearrange the faded book on her dash board before it fell off again. Sylvia Plath’s Collected works, Vol. 1, the other two in her suit case, along with the volumns of Poe and other authors she couldn’t fit in her glove box with registration and trinkets. The glint of moonlight caught on the small cat trinket hanging from her rear view mirror, a combined effort of work from both of her youngest siblings, the mirror itself showing the modified gun rack that held both her rifle and a sword gifted to her from her brother.

 

                “Ah hell, next town, I’m gonna have a little fun.” She quickly moved into traffic when she saw  the sign ‘ _Brookhaven, next exit._ ’

                An hour and three drinks later, she had a hundred dollars stuffed in the pockets of her jeans and another forty laying on the table. She pulled her hair up as the dealer – a term used loosely in this bar – dealt out more cards. She checked the cards, biding her time before tossing them down and showing them her winning hand, taking the new hundred and some dollars with a snicker.

                “How in the hell are you doing that girly?” One of the men asked, incredulous. “Ya cheatin’?”

                “Nope, I’ve just got lady luck on my side.”

                “You su-” one of the others slapped him hard on the back, guffawing.

                “You’re jus’ upset a girl beat ya Paul.” Roxy stood, stretching, popping her back.

                “Ahh, I think I’m done for the night, thanks for the games boys, I got some cash on me in case Mutini breaks down before I get to Jackson tomorrow.” She sauntered over to the bar, taking a deep breath. The smell of a small bar in a small city is always welcoming to her, reminding her of the smell of her father. The faint smell of cigarettes and alcohol, combined with the smell of people having fun and living. She sits down next to another woman, most likely the same age as her, staring into the bottom of what looks to be rum and coke.

                “Hey cutie, what’s your name?” Roxy grins and sticks out her hand, wanting to wipe the melancholy look off this stranger’s face. She jumps, startled before turning wide eyes to Roxy. She eyes the offered hand before daintly taking it.

                “Jane English.”

                “That’s Totes adorbes. I’m Roxy Strider, nice to meet you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is really out of my comfort zone, but I wanted to write something not paranormal at all, and I have fallen in love with Dessa's Badly Broken Code Album, so each chapter is based on a song from it.  
> This chapter is Dutch, which is most definitely a Roxy song, but I did a terrible job of repping the song QuQ  
> http://rapgenius.com/Dessa-dutch-lyrics  
> (So OOC)


	2. Even the Walls Lean Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well I heard from the rest of the world you're in trouble  
> Bad news moves like fire that you fight on the phone  
> And I'm too far away, my well-wishing can't touch you  
> But I think of you still more than you might suppose  
> [...]  
> Had some hard goodbyes  
> Call me up, late at night  
> Free drinks and bad advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Warning, mention of spousal abuse*

Roxy sat next to the newly dubbed, ‘Jane English’, the only patron doing so.

                “So why ya over here all by your lonesome Miss Janey?” She says before the bartender, a youth that makes her think of both of her brothers with his shades and thin but built stature. A pin on his shirt says Hal, and she thinks she heard him say he owned the place, named it after his brother. She ordered a Vodka with cherry juice before Jane spoke up.

                “I’m married.” She held up her left hand, showing the simple silver band that had two colored strips on it, one dark green, another pale blue. Roxy laughed, showing her own left hand, a battered gold band on it.

                “I wear one too, though I don’t got a hubby, didn’t stop them from hitting on me.” She took a gulp from the vodka that was set in front of her, Jane taking a polite sip from her own drink.

                “They know my husband would shoot them if they touched me, he’s rather famous, Jake English, he hosts that discovery show.”

                “Pssshhaaaw, don’t mean you can’t talk to some people, have some fun live a little.” She grinned, the alcohol in her making her loud demeanor louder. Jane snickers, a blush on her face from whatever alcohol in her own blood. “So what do you do for life Missus English, or is that it?”

                “I teach piano, I refuse to live solely on his income, what do you do Roxy?”

                “If you play piano for me, I can show you, just play something small. Look, they have an upright over there.” She pointed to the corner where an upright piano stood.

                “I don’t know…” Roxy was already leaning over the counter, knocking on the wood to get the bartender’s attention.

                “Hey, Hey, Hal, right? Can me an’ my buddy use the old piano? I’ll pay ya something if you want it.” He looks up, showing contact coloured eyes over the edge of the shades, the same obnoxious shade of red as his hair.

                “Sure, it’s fine with me, don’t have to pay unless one of you break it making utter asses of yourselves.” She grins, giving him a mock salute before hopping back, pulling Jane with her to the piano.

                “Just play one song, anyone you like.” She sighed, resigned to doing this before Roxy busted a vein. She sat down, tinkling out a scale to make sure the piano was still in tune before she launched into a slow melody, something haunting and slightly discordant, the notes demanding more attention as the song went on. Roxy leaned against the piano hips swaying in time to the gentle notes, eyes closed. She stopped moving when the song exploded into a cacophony of notes, eyes opening to watch Jane’s hands fly across the keys, eyes focused. The song once again quieted into soft notes before she stopped, breath coming heavy and she looks back at Roxy and _Wow, were her eyes that electric blue before?_

                “Fair trade, your turn to share.”

                “After that performance, mine seems terribly mundane.”

                “Still, tell me, I’m curious now.” She’s grinning, leaning towards Roxy over the keyboard.

                “Roxy ‘Rolal’ Lalonde at your service, Strider is my brother’s last name.” She sees Jane’s eyes widen as she places the name.

                “Wow, I didn’t expect to meet you here, don’t-don’t you have a show in Jackson?”

                “I couldn’t get to it on time, so I pulled over here for some fun.” She grins, this time a little nervous. “Jus’ call me Strider while I’m here though, don’t want to get swarmed, I try to stay away from most big things, just have that one song on the radio.”

                “I understand, it’s nice to meet you Rolal.”

                “Same to you Janey.”

                She checks into a hotel that night, phone with one more number in it and she couldn’t be happier at that point. She makes it a point to call Jane whenever she finishes a show or finds a new restaurant that has something delicious or when she starts trying to pick up cello. Anytime really. Their friendship was quickly made through a meeting at a small bar, one they visited together a year after they met, Jane bringing along her husband, who was delightful with his accent and strange exclamations, name was straight forward like he was. Jake English was a very straight forward man. She brought along her brother who was all loops to Jake’s straightforwardness, but Dirk had always been that way. They party and have fun together that night, all laughing and collapsing at the English house around dawn.

                Roxy calls Jane a week later when her mother lands in the hospital, her liver failing and they resolve to quit drinking.

                Jane calls in Febuary when her father passes and Roxy attends the funeral, even dying her hair black and an electric blue that reminds her of Jane’s eyes for the event.

                Roxy shows up on Jane’s doorstep in April, a box holding a white cat inside in her arms, topped with a ribbon and happy birthday card.

                Jane shows up backstage in June with a black eye and a story to tell. They sit down in her tour bus, her heads of security, Caliborn and Equius, outside to keep anyone out, even her brother while they talk. Jane says that Jake had been the biggest sweetheart in high school, but years later, they were only surface deep half of the time. ‘He becomes different when he drinks.’ The beginning to every abuse hymn and Roxy feels rage boil beneath the surface, but she’ll leave Jake alone, if only because Jane asked for it.

                A month later, they sit side by side in the bar once again, if only for nostalgic reasons, cans of soda infront of them, Hal laughing at them because they can never remember the name of the bar is Lil Seb’s. They both wear dark circles under their eyes, too many nights talking over lyrics, trying to plan songs that use piano because Roxy wants to take Jane on tour with her. Tonight though, they sit with a notebook between them, writing a story about the silliest things they can think of because Jake’s at a showing and will be home drunk if he’s home at all.

                When she drops Jane off at her house, she stops her with a hug and whispered words.

                “If you ever need anything, call me up for free drinks and bad advice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, another chapter, I'm still writing the next one QuQ  
> This one is for Dixon's Girl.


	3. The Chaconne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bittersweet under spicy, it seems to be the only way to describe Roxy and her family

                “Please Jakey? I’ll have her back next week, it’s just to come hang out with me and see my baby sister play in LA, pleeeeeease?” Roxy begs, a grin pulling at the corners of her lips, hand on Jane’s arm, just below where a bruise has begun to yellow under her sweater. The cheery Halloween decorations around the door and on the front porch does nothing to resolve the urge to punch Jake in his buck toothed, grinning, smug face.

                “Sure Rox, as long as you get Jane back in one piece.” _I’ll keep her in less pieces than you, you cheeky dick waffle._

                “I will, we’ll be back to get her tomorrow!”

 

                She makes good on her word, picking Jane up the next morning, the two of them laughing at whatever they can find and occasionally teasing her monetary manager.

                “Listen, I have to deal with my asshole family, I don’t need you two fucking with me.” Karkat Vantas growled from his place at the table of the bus, Calliope sitting across from him, smiling at the two girls, the three of them eventually ending up in PJs with a bowl of popcorn, Karkat joining them halfway through 50 First Dates, complaining and leaving during Alien vs Predator, only to come back for a Stephen King Marathon. By the end of the night they were parked on the side on the road, too scared to sleep, except for their driver, who had thick skin when it came to horror. (Karkat said it’s because she died when she was thirteen.)

                They slept during the day trip, Jane and Roxy only waking up long enough to devour food before falling back asleep. The final day of their journey was the day before Halloween and they checked into a hotel before getting dressed. Jane’s dress stopping at her mid thigh, the skirt poofing out and accenting her wide hips, while Roxy’s stopped at the same place, a slit going up the a-line skirt to her hip. Both were black and suited to a Halloween concert. They put on the last touch, ornate masquerade masks in pink and blue, before they left for the concert hall.

                “So tell me about Rose and Dave, I’ve only met Dirk, who seemed nice enough, if not a tad bit strange.” Jane says as they enter the concert hall, holding on to Roxy’s arm to not get lost.

                “Dirk’s king strange Janey Jane, go ahead and admit it. Dave’s a lot like Dirk, except less of a control freak, though he’s really anal about time. Rose is his twin and really serious, she’s three years younger than me, so she was finally legal to drink last year, she’s staying away from it though, ever since mom landed in the hospital and bit the dust.” Jane turned to her with wide eyes.

                “You never told me she died, I would have gone to the funeral.”

                “It would have been better if you didn’t, my family are some of the most emotionally constipated people. We just had it as just us four and even then, they didn’t cry. Neither did I, but I got that out sobbing at you over the phone.” Jane looked down, eyes sweeping the floor. It hurt that Roxy didn’t trust her enough to let her come to a funeral that took place only a week before her father’s. Though it wasn’t that, she knew it wasn’t. Roxy was the eldest of the four and tried her best to look out for the others.

                “C’mon Jane, perk up! It’s a party! It’s like an alcoholic homecoming, except the jocks have to act decent while they’re sober!” She laughed, following Roxy to where there was already music playing, something almost jazzy that Roxy had a ball trying to dance to, laughing about how it looked easier in the movies before gawking at Jane doing it perfectly. They spent more time than not trying to teach Roxy how to swing than anything else until the announcement that the Horrorterror’s Princess was going on stage.

                “I think that is the most halloween-ish stage name I’ve ever heard.”

                “I know! Isn’t it fabu?” The women grin at each other before pushing through the crowd to see the two on stage.

                “Your siblings certainly don’t skimp on the costumes, do they?” She was assuming that it was Rose and Dave onstage, but they looked nothing like the woman next to her, though they exuded the same sort of calm as Dirk. She couldn’t see the boy’s face, covered as it was by a red splattered, white plague mask, grotesque wings, fluttering behind him, his white tuxedo ripped and red splattered. The turn tables in front of him were of a similar design. The girl on the front of the stage had the widest, dopiest smile you had ever seen, her skin painted red while her hair was bright green, the colours clashing with the long yellow dress she wore. The violin she held was a toxic green, but the grotesque visage of the siblings were ignored once she began to play.

                The songs were fast paced, Rose’s violin creating a haunting melody while Dave mixed in sounds that wouldn’t be expected to work well with it, but it did. They played four songs together before Rose played one solo, somber and slow, occasionally picking into jovial tones. Roxy leaned close, whispering into Jane’s ear.

                “Each song is dedicated to a person, they always do that, this is for mom.” The idea that this joyfully sad song was dedicated to their mother brought tears to Jane’s eyes and she clutched Roxy’s hand, offering support to her.

                Once the siblings left the stage the swing music resumed playing, though the duo didn’t stay for it, Roxy dragging Jane backstage.

                “Rosie! Lil Miss Rosie Posie!” Roxy shrieked, tackling her younger sister and wrapping her in her arms.

                “Roxy, I understand that you are excited to see me again, but it is not necessary to try and topple me. Nor is the choke hold you have me in.” Roxy let go of her sister, still bouncing on the toes of her feet.

                “It’s just been forever since I’ve seen ya Rosie! Where’s the cool kid?”

                “I’m here, you all can die in peace now because the coolest of cool kids has graced you with his presence.” Dave’s voice is muffled behind the mask he still wears, walking closer to them from where he’d been taking off the swooping wings he’d worn onstage. The mask swivels to Jane, who’s still standing a couple of paces away from the Lalonde sisters.

“Who the hell’s this Rox?” Roxy grabs Jane’s hand, dragging her closer before slinging an arm around her shoulders.

“This is Miss Janey Jane English. Janey, Rose Lalonde and Dave Strider, my pain in the ass youngest sibs. Weird ass twins.”

“We’re not twins.” Both of them say in unison, tones and stances opposites.

“We’re siblings who just happen to share the same day of birth, any of the supposed baggage that is supposed to come with being twins is lost on us.” Dave takes off his mask, holding it under an arm and watching Roxy with narrowed eyes. Jane can see the relation between them. Rose share’s Roxy’s heart-shaped face and slender body, Dave shares Dirk’s long nose, the bridge crooked on both of them, but his cat shaped eyes and smattering of freckles makes him look like Roxy.

“You two are fuckin’ dweebs.” Roxy laughs, a good natured grin on her face. “How ‘bout ya wash that crud off you and change into something more normal for you to and I’ll treat ya to some food.”

“Oh joys, something slummed up from Waffle House.”

“Excuse the fuck outta you Lalonde, Waffle House is the shit.” The siblings bickered as they went off to  do as their big sister bid. The grin on Roxy’s face shrunk as she sighed, taking off her mask.

“Sorry about that, I forgot they’d do the whole not twins thin’.”

“It’s quite all right Roxy.”

“No it’s not, they’re stubbrun – fuckin- stubborn- as hell. Because they were raised apart, they renounced being twins, which is a huge bowl of ‘what the fuck are you thinking you stupid kids.’” She reaches to run a hand through her hair, stopping to instead toy with the comb in her hair.

“I think that they’re wonderful.”

“You haven’t sat down to dinner with them.” The grin Roxy gave her made Jane suddenly wonder if this was a good idea or not.

 

She still wasn’t sure on that, four hours later, stumbling into the dark tour bus, Roxy laughing like an idiot. True to what Dave and Rose had said, they’d ended up in a Waffle House, gorging themselves on hashbrowns, discussing anything and everything. Of course, it inevitably turned into a contest between the siblings, or actually two. Who could make Jane the reddest and who could do the stupidest thing. Roxy won both, along with a bruised and swollen ankle. Dave had driven them back, still snorting at her and helped them up the bus steps. The two of them were still giggling when they fell into Jane’s cot, Roxy’s ankle too swollen to let her climb up to the top bunk.

“We should put ice on your ankle.” Jane whispered, her face hurting from grinning and laughing.

“But then it’d melt and we aint got any frozen peas. No ice balls to put on my foot.” Roxy giggled, pulling the blanket over her head. “I gots myself a cave, and it smells like cookie dough.” Jane followed her under the blanket, a stupid grin on her face. They stayed like that, talking under the blanket until they drifted into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ennhhhh, This is late and terrible. The Chaconne is a terribly sad song, and I couldn't get that across. This chapter was also meant to have an argument between Rose and Roxy, but that has been moved to a later chapter.  
> And yes, Trickster!Rose and Heinousstuck!Dave costumes.


End file.
